Sway With Me(48)
“Make love to me again. I need to feel you inside of me once more,” she demanded.
He lowered himself to the grass, laying her on top of him to protect her and the baby from the hard ground. How he loved this woman!
Ryan didn’t want it to end. Portia felt so damn good writhing on top of him, kissing him as though she’d never get enough. He ran his hand through her long hair, tangling it around his fingers, kissing her harder, deeper. His other hand crept under the fabric of her shirt, massaging the hot, silky skin of her back.
Wait. When had she gotten dressed?
His eyes flew open. He’d been dreaming. Again.
They were in the mansion. In bed. Kissing. Touching.
He hadn’t spoken to her since leaving her on the dance floor of the club. On the way home, he’d stopped at the liquor store and slammed a few shots with a sympathetic Zeus before crashing for the night. He’d spilled all the details about their dirty dancing and how she had jumped to the belief that he would use sex to get her to sell the house. Then the intuitive cat had reminded him that Portia hadn’t said a damn thing. It was Ryan’s guilty conscience that had taken him in that direction. She’d simply asked him why money was important to him.
How could he explain money hadn’t meant anything to him until his friends and family assumed the worst of him? They’d automatically concluded that he’d spent the millions from his trust fund on partying, toys, and gambling. With the exception of Braden, no one bothered to ask him. He’d gambled all right . . . on a woman he’d thought he loved. A woman he thought loved him, up until the day she screwed him over, only not for the reasons everyone believed.
His family had told him it was time for him to stand on his own two feet and earn his own money, to prove he wouldn’t casually throw away millions of dollars again. They wanted him to understand its worth. In that moment, when his mother and father had treated him as just another trust fund baby rather than the son they should have known well enough to know to ask him where the darned money went, he’d learned that money meant everything in this world.
They’d never forgiven him for his role in the fire Alexander had started. The loss of his funds gave them the perfect opportunity to punish him for that mistake, as if he hadn’t punished himself for months. It was inevitable they’d turn their backs on him, so he’d turned his back on his family first.
He’d hoped Portia would be different.
Maybe she’d had a change of heart when she’d come home from the bar and this was her creative way of telling him? God, he hoped so.
He returned her kisses, plundering his tongue into the hot recesses of her mouth. He dragged her shirt higher up her back.
Eyes closed, she moaned and arched her spine, tipping her head toward the ceiling. “Does this please you?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he responded, taking the opportunity to kiss her neck. He stopped. A nagging sliver of worry tickled at the corner of his mind and continued to grow until a full-blown sense of déjà vu slammed into his awareness. Hadn’t she spoken those very words in his dream?
He clutched her face in his hands. “Portia, are you awake?”
She turned her head to kiss his palm. “Make love to me again. I need to feel you inside of me once more.”
Ah, hell, not only was she sleeping, but she was dreaming the same dream. How was that possible?
He flipped her onto her back and gently shook her shoulders. “Portia, wake up.”
She cracked her lids and looked around in a daze. “Is it morning?”
“No,” he whispered. “You were . . . I don’t know how to say this, but . . . you were . . .”
“Spit it out, Ryan, so I can go back to sleep. Was I snoring?”
He shook his head. “You were kissing me.”
“What?” she asked sleepily.
“Were you dreaming of us making love in Greece?”
“I don’t remember. Night,” she said, her eyes drifting shut as she rolled over to her side.
She’d played it cool, but he didn’t believe her for a second. This wasn’t over.
After Ryan had woken her up and informed her she’d kissed him in her sleep, Portia panicked. Then she did what any logical woman would do . . . She attempted to breathe deeply like she’d immediately fallen back to sleep and didn’t move a muscle until Ryan’s even breathing indicated he’d passed out.
How the hell had he known about the dream?
Hours later, her lips still tingled and a slow, dull ache pulsed between her thighs. Not only had she dreamed of making love to Ryan, she’d almost done it for real. Thank goodness he’d woken up and stopped her, because if she had been the one to wake up first, she might not have come to her senses.